


A Child's Initiative

by wakandan_wardog



Series: Children of Light [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Returns, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Caretaking, Fluff, Gen, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) Feels, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Protective Bucky Barnes, Robot Feels, Starkbot Feels, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-28 02:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakandan_wardog/pseuds/wakandan_wardog
Summary: Tony wakes in the penthouse, there's a soldier serving him breakfast and possibly conspiring with his daughter... Also, why does he feel like he's at the start of a scavenger hunt?





	1. Rise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Politzania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/gifts).



> The working title of this was "When Irish AI's Are Smiling", anyone? Anyone at all? XD

Tony wakes up flailing, a scream caught in his throat like a wild thing, scratching for freedom. His hands snap out, fingers curled and clawing, and he thrashes upright before he notices that he’s alone. Smooth slate gray sheets flutter above him, an empty bed sprawling beneath and beyond him in all directions. It feels like a deserted island, floating in the empty sea that is his penthouse suite. Utter silence reigns on the floor, where normally JARVIS would cut in with facts and a cool tone, or Pepper would be scolding from the doorway. 

There is no one, because Tony is alone again. 

It is no more than he deserves, he’s sure of it. 

Tony wakes, alone and nearly screaming, which is not unusual. However, the location is certainly a shock. The Penthouse sprawls around him, all elegant modern lines, sharp angles that speak to Pepper’s aesthetic more than his own. He hardly recognizes this place, certainly doesn’t feel at home in it. Then again, it’s been months since he’s slept here, all told. Months of all-nighters in the shop, weeks of being on the run, of jet-setting here and there and everywhere to clean up messes that his fellow heroes leave behind. Court dates and Senate hearings and press conferences. 

Fight after flight after fight, until weariness nests in his bones and weighs him down like so much lead. A weight that lingers, threatening to drag him to the bottom where the vultures would love to see him stay. But he won’t because Starks are made of iron, and when Tony Stark is under fire he takes _flight_. 

“You alright, Darlin’?” There’s a voice like whiskey over gravel, all strain and smooth words bumping into each other oddly in the empty air. 

Tony rolls to face the doorway, body screaming in a mixed scramble of fight-or-flight responses. He realizes that FRIDAY hasn’t said a word to him, and the Winter Soldier is standing in his bedroom. 

The man who was James Barnes goes still, a tray in his hands as he freezes in the doorway. One metal, one flesh, he carefully balances the burden, keeping his body language open and relaxed. His storm-colored eyes sweep over the room and he slowly steps inward, hesitating at the foot of the bed to gently set the tray down. “Easy, Tony, easy. I ain’t gonna hurt ya, remember?” 

“Why are you here?” Tony grits out, staring at the assortment of fruit presented in a bowl, alongside steaming oatmeal and glasses of juice, water, and a cup of coffee. “What are you doing?” 

“The right thing, I’d like to think.” The soldier replies gruffly, gently sliding the tray up the bed until he can perch on the end. “FRIDAY said you ain’t been eatin’.” 

“You talked to FRIDAY?” Tony blinks, wide-eyed and bewildered as he accepts the gentle arrival of the tray into his immediate proximity. It’s not being handed to him, just slid slowly across the bed until it's within a convenient reach. 

For some reason, the Soldier’s presence doesn’t set off any further alarms, and Tony watches the food come into reach without any great concern. It smells, good. The fruit is fresh and clean, a mix of melons and grapes, some raspberries and a veritable mound of blueberries. Clearly, someone’s been talking out of turn. 

When coffee is in reach he stretches a hand out toward it, hesitating as Barnes clears his throat. “How about you reach for anything else on that tray, and I give you the com back to your little robot child?” 

Tony pauses mid-reach, watching as Bucky takes the earpiece out of his own ear and sets it down on the corner of the tray with a look. He doesn’t reach for it for several moments, rescuing a blueberry from the bowl of fruit and popping it in his mouth to stall for time. 

James beams like he won something valuable, and drapes himself into a lazy incline across the foot of the bed. “She started yellin’ at me that I wasn’t ta give you coffee until you ate. Said she’d sic DUM-E on me? Something about him wielding a fire extinguisher and Butterfingers running over my feet. Don’t rightly know what she was talkin’ about, but I figured I’d listen.” 

“Smart.” Tony mumbles, grabbing a napkin and the earbud with quick, anxious hands. He polishes off the tech piece in a fidget, checking it to make sure the casing hasn’t been cracked. There is no noticeable sign of tampering, so with a last suspicious look to the Soldier, he slides it in his ear. “Where’s my gal?” 

_“Boss?”_ FRIDAY murmurs, and tension rushes out of Tony’s spine immediately. _“You should eat something, if you can.”_

“Bossing the new kid around already, Sweetheart?” Tony smiles, though whether it’s at her or at the Soldier he’s not quite sure. 

Secure in his ear, FRIDAY's tone goes smug. _“You were out of commission, someone had to take charge.”_

Still reclining across the bed, Barnes gives a slow, wide smile in response. Something -that might be worry or might be interest- clenches on Tony’s stomach, and he drops his eyes to the tray in front of him instead. He pokes idly at the blueberries, winging some of them into the oatmeal in a stall for time. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” 

“From what I hear, you ain’t slept right for days.” Barnes shrugs his flesh shoulder, tilting his head slightly as he studies the still-exhausted billionaire. “You need food, and a shower, and more sleep.” 

“I’ll maybe get two of those things, since you’re colluding with my daughter to make it so.” Tony grumbles at him, throwing more blueberries into his oatmeal before begins to eat it. 

“Pretty sure between me ‘n your robot kid, we can go for the trifecta. We’re both pretty stubborn and wily, and you ain’t exactly at your best right now.” Barnes gave a slow, lazy smile, storm blue eyes skating over Tony's body appraisingly. "But you're welcome to do your worst if you wanna dissuade me." 

“Darling, smooth lines like that are the reason I haven’t proposed yet.” Tony snipes before taking a second bite. There’s a slight hint of cinnamon and sugar, and it’s still warm but not hot enough to burn. His stomach roars to life and he has to fight not to wolf down another six bites, but the Soldier’s expression goes smug like he knows it. 

_‘Jerk.’_ A corner of Tony’s brain grumbles. Even clearly hunted, the Soldier has showered recently, brushed his hair, and looks way too good in cast-off sweats and a too-tight Stark Industries t-shirt. _‘Who let you walk around like that, anyway?’_

But **damn** if that isn’t branding at its finest. Tony would sure as hell run out and invest in some StarkTech if he didn’t already own the company, seeing the name plastered across Barnes’s pecks like that. 

“I’m sure Rogers is worried sick about you, how’d you wind up on Stark-sitting duty?” Tony prods in between bites. He even reaches out and snags the orange juice, sipping at it cautiously. _Mmmmm, pulpy. Friday probably told Barnes half of his favorites, the traitorous little imp._

“Don’t really know what Steve is up to.” Barnes shrugs, looking down at the bedspread and focusing on the silver of his metal hand. “Don’t really wanna know right now, anyhow.” 

“Is that so?” 

“No one assigned me to you, Stark.” Barnes bristles, sitting upright and losing the look of relaxation that had been edging over his features. 

Tony immediately feels like a heel, realizing that relaxation is probably the last thing this guy has had a lot of. “Sorry, habit. So, Steve didn’t assign you?” 

“Knowing Steve.” Barnes muttered, giving Tony a look that wasn’t quite a glare. “Do you think he’d assign me to you?” 

“I think Steve wouldn’t let you out of reach if he had you there once again.” Tony admits around a mouthful of oatmeal and fruit. “Particularly not to look after a fuckup like me. He’d rather burn the world to the ground.” 

Barnes looks both amused and disgusted. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, Rich Boy. Use some of those fancy manners and swallow ‘fore ya talk to me.” 

Just for that, Tony makes a show of taking a big bite and chewing seriously. He quirks a dark, challenging eyebrow, mutely daring. The sentence is _right there_ , but he resists, if only barely. 

Barnes snorts a laugh, clearly he understands. “You ain’t a fuckup, and Steve ain’t my Ma.” 

It’s an effort to swallow rather than snort, but Tony manages. “Ok, that may be true. But something brought you here.” 

“Well, yeah.” Barnes looks nervous now, flesh hand disappearing into his pocket. “I… I thought it was you.” 

Tony freezes, spoon halfway to his mouth. “Me?” 

“Yeah… Got a drop at this place I was staying in Romania, about a month ago?” Barnes shrugged. “Lotta stuff. Clothes, fancy phone, money, passport… Good stuff, nice. Phone had all this high tech encryption stuff, buncha information. Where to go with the passport, how to get a ticket, on and on. Couple of pickups on the way. Bit of a headache, but a road back home. Worth it, at any rate. Just a few things to grab, no one to murder, no regimes to tear down. Practically a walk in the park, if ya’ think about it. Led me to here, tho, not Brooklyn. Still, I figured… With all the work you were doing, heading off that committee that wanted to register folk? You makin’ nice with those diplomats and royals and all? You wouldn’t be a bad person to know…And you were tryin’ to help me, or so it seemed. So I figured, why not?” 

“You got a package in the mail, and you thought I sent it?” Tony sets aside his empty oatmeal bowl, pops some melon in his mouth, and chews rapidly in agitation. Had he sent a “rescue me” kit out to Barnes? He’d been thinking about it, talked it over with JARVIS after they’d pulled records from HYDRA-SHIELD. How they’d hunted down two of the most likely safe houses for an active Winter Soldier to retreat to, and two options that a half-brainwashed James Barnes may hide in. But, they’d never enacted the protocol because there was no way to know if killing SHIELD actually took the Winter Soldier out of the running. 

There were some choppy security cam tapes from DC and the mess with Steve, but he hadn’t shared much with Tony beyond what the News had relayed. Tony hadn’t been hurt by it, had been expecting it… Though the way Wilson was privy to every secret had certainly stung. Then again, if Steve hadn’t been protecting his BFF, what had he been doing? Where was he headed? 

Why was James Barnes in Tony’s penthouse, when his best friend was out in the world somewhere with a team? A perfectly capable team, if Tony was honest. 

“You’re doin’ a lot of frowning and not a lot of eatin’.” Barnes scolds mildly, lifting a metal finger and wagging it in a scolding manner. “Keep that up and you don’t get to see it.” 

“What?” Tony blinks, hand hesitating mid-way between the fruit and his knee where he’d been resting it between bites. 

“If it wasn’t you who was giving me a breadcrumb trail home, then I reckon’ it’s someone you know, yeah?” Barnes grins, wide and wicked as he pokes the tray an inch closer. 

At a loss, Tony nods and scoops up another piece of fruit, sucking it and the juice off his fingers. 

Barnes hesitates, swallowing visibly as his eyes darken. “Yeah, well… I figure if I give you the phone, the jump drive I picked up on the way, ‘few other things… Maybe it gives you enough to piece things together?” 

“Drive?” Tony visibly perks, rocking forward. 

Immediately, Barnes holds up a forestalling hand. “None of that now. You eat everything on the tray, you drink your java, you get in the shower. Then, and only then, do we talk about it.” 

“You’re a damn tease.” Tony grumbles, visibly slumping. 

“I aim to please, Dollface, don’t chu worry none.” Barnes grins. “You just tell that girl of yours I’m keepin’ up my end of the deal.” 

Tony tilts his head, giving Barnes an appraising look as he speaks to his new digital overlord. “Keeping it up, huh? FRIDAY, are you tormenting Daddy on purpose?” 

_“Would I do such a thing, Boss?”_ The question is soft, angelic. 

But Tony knows what it sounds like when his Irish AI is smiling. 

Apparently Barnes does too, because he throws his head back and laughs. 

Tony watches the stretch of his throat, the flash of white teeth in a tan face half-covered in scruff that isn’t quite a beard. Barnes is all dark hair and storm-strong eyes and soft-smiles. Draped across the foot of his bed, wearing castoffs from a team that cast _Tony_ off and seemingly in no rush to leave. James is **trouble** , and Tony Stark’s never been good at avoiding it. 

And damn him if James Barnes doesn’t make it look attractive as all hell, too. 

*


	2. Regroup

Tony has been in the lab two hours. He’d only been cleared to go after a nap, a shower, and a snack brought to him on a tray by an unfairly attractive but endearingly insistent Super Soldier. He’s managed to unlock and decode the drive, even working at half his usual pace out of fear of the contents. The first stage of coding, the way part of it had been automatic like it was returning to a familiar system, had made him pause and lock the whole thing down until he was two-thousand percent _sure_ it wouldn’t harm any of the bots or infiltrate the tower network. 

Eventually choosing to give FRIDAY more server access and start a sandbox protocol, he now sorted through projections of the drive contents with a manic intent. He can hardly believe what he’s seeing, keeps swaying to familiar bits of code and exploding them like he’ll be able to detect a mistake if he looks long enough. So far, he hasn’t found anything. 

Eventually, FRIDAY clears her throat and attracts his attention. He’s not sure how long he spent pawing through the bits and pieces he’s unlocked, the coding as familiar to him as his own heartbeat or the hum of the reactor. This is both _his_ and not his at all. But, close. The work of a familiar mind. 

“Baby girl?” He questions, rubbing at his eyes and then glancing at his phone. 

Friday obligingly lights up his phone with her own coding pattern, the rich emerald green making something in his chest settle. “All good here, Boss.” 

“What are you up to, my dear?” 

“The Soldier is wanting to know if you’ll be down for a late lunch.” She murmurs, sounding amused. “He says that the drive can wait for you to eat, and if it can’t, maybe you aren’t as smart as you think you are?” 

“Rude!” Tony grumbles, frowning at the screen and then sighing when his stomach rumbles ominously. “But fair. It can wait, I _don’t_ need anyone else to help me with it currently. Still working on believing, mostly.” 

“Yes…” She echoes softly, going silent as Tony makes his way to the elevator, summons it with a button, and steps into the carriage. “Boss, it certainly looks like…” 

Tony leans against the handrail and scrubs at his face. It stifles the tears he feels prickling at his eyes and he scrubs a hand through his hair before clearing his throat. “I know it does, honey. But it’s early, yet. We’ll have to look into a few things before we start hoping.” 

FRIDAY hesitates for a moment, her silence thoughtful but still hopeful. “Yes, of course. I’ll tell the Soldier you’re on your way.” 

Tony frowns, tilting his head. “You’re still not running the tower, Sweetheart… How are you talking to him, anyway?” 

This time the silence stretches, as if she’s trying to decide whether or not to tell him, before she finally speaks. “I hacked his phone.” 

Tony can’t help himself, he laughs. “That’s my girl.” 

*

Barnes, for his part, has settled into a tower inhabited by an eccentric billionaire and a rabid computer program admirably. He’s taken it upon himself to make snacks and meals, as Stark does not seem to feel that food is of any benefit and therefore won’t bother with it unless he’s forced to. Other than hacking into his StarkPhone FRIDAY doesn’t make any overt gestures, but now and again she’ll comment on something in a helpful manner. 

“Boss needs vegetables.” She murmurs at one point, James estimates that Tony’s been in the lab for an hour. 

“How’s he feel about fajitas?” The Soldier asks as he opens the fridge and begins digging out what he’ll need. “Chicken? Got avocado, peppers and onions, cheese, sour cream… Do you have tortilla or flatbread?” 

“There’s lemon, lime and spices if you want to marinade the chicken before you fry it up?” 

“Sounds good." James tilts his head. "I'm assuming you're pulling up a recipe.. How long until he’s at a stopping point?” 

“Covered, on your phone. Can we give him an hour? Should be enough for the marinade to set.” 

He peers over at the list of ingredients, nodding. “Can do.” 

"Alright then, he's on to something but should be free'd up for a break then." 

James smiles to himself as he tosses the chicken in a bag with lime, oil, cumin, garlic, salt, pepper, cilantro and chili. Setting it aside to marinade he helps himself to a knife, making a small noise of pleasure as he quickly dices through the avocado, three colors of peppers, and the onion. He finds a medium cast iron skillet with FRIDAY’s help, tosses the vegetables in, and then finds another for the chicken before rummaging for the flatbread and dishes for the assorted fixings. 

“You keeping an eye on him?” He wonders, the Soldier not liking their handler being out of sight even as James pushes the urge down, reminds himself Tony’s barely a friend and doesn’t deserve the burden of handler. 

FRIDAY hesitates. “He’s sufficiently monitored.” 

“If he blows himself up, I’m gonna be pissed.” 

“You and me both, Sergeant Barnes.” 

*

When Tony emerges just as the chicken is starting to look ready to slice, James shakes his head. FRIDAY is smugly quiet, his phone lit up with her presence as he dishes sour cream and cheese into their containers and sets them on the bar. 

Tony drifts from the elevator through the sitting area and into the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively. 

“Your daughter, is a terror.” James grumbles as he works on the peppers. “A **terror**.” 

“So she’s **my** daughter when she’s a terror, huh?” Tony teases as he meanders into the kitchen and perches on a bar-seat on the outside of the kitchen, watching Barnes intently. “When is she yours, then? When she’s sleeping like an angel?” 

Looking up from where he’s warming the tortilla, James mock-scowls. “Does she ever sleep?” 

“Why sleep when I can watch you, every moment, Sargent Barnes?” FRIDAY murmurs in the flattest tone that her creator has ever heard from her. “Every. Moment.” 

Tony’s glad he isn’t drinking, because between FRIDAY and the expression James shoots him, he would have spit it half-way across the room. “You should see your face right now.” 

“She’s **definitely** your child.” James growls, turning back to mind the chicken for another moment before he begins bringing over serving dishes of the peppers, avocado and onions. He returns to the chicken and begins slicing it up, tossing over his shoulder. “Lunch is fajitas, your child says you need vegetables. What do you want to drink?” 

“Water’s fine, or there’s soda in the fridge if you like.” 

“I think we’ll stick with water and actually benefit from a decent lunch.” Barnes shrugs. “I'll be ready in just a few.” 

“I’ll get drinks then, you ok to eat at the bar?” 

“Fine with me, doll, I ain’t in need of no fancy dining.” 

“Says the man cooking in a state of the art kitchen literally overlooking Manhattan.” 

“I know, what else does a guy need?” 

“Careful, Barnes, or you’ll make me like you.” 

“Aww Baby, that sounds just _awful_.” The soldier snorts. “Food first, then you’ll tell me about that little drive of ours, and what our next move is.” 

“Our next move?” 

“Well, it is my project just as much as yours, at this point.” 

"Is that so?" Tony wonders, hiding his smile as he gets water out of the fridge. “Alright, why not? Tag along, Barnes.” 

"Don't mind if I do." 

*


End file.
